


Accidental Bonding

by Luzula



Series: The Department of Magical Crimes [1]
Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Case Fic, Community: ds_flashfiction, Drugs, First Time, M/M, Psychic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-30
Updated: 2010-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 08:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luzula/pseuds/Luzula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Superpower AU, where Ray and Fraser work at the department of magical crimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidental Bonding

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of those stories that basically wrote itself in a few days. It was a lot of fun! Thanks to [](http://aria.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**aria**](http://aria.dreamwidth.org/) for beta reading. She wanted me to write more, and I might very well do that, but it'll probably be as a sequel.

"Detective Vecchio, magical crimes," Ray said into the telephone.

A pause, then, "Yeah, no, that's property crime."

"I don't care if you think a pickpocket teleported your wallet away all the way from Australia—which, no, that is not possible. It's still not on us. We only do major magical crimes, like homicide by magic, undue magical influence, illegal magical substances. Stuff like that."

"'Kay, bye."

"Ray, it only takes a second to be polite."

Ray sighed. "Yeah, maybe I was rude. But I'm bored. Nothing's happening around here."

"Didn't you wish for some peace and quiet last week?"

"What can I say, I changed my mind." Ray grinned, a quick flash of white teeth. "Want to go for lunch? It's not like we're doing any good here."

"All right." I took my hat and Ray took his jacket, and we strode toward the door of the station, side by side, with Dief at our heels. I tipped my hat at Francesca, who was tapping away at her computer.

It was late spring, bordering on summer, and we each bought ourselves a burger and sat down on a park bench. Ray took off his jacket again and laid it on the bench beside him, leaning back to squint up at the sun. "Nice day."

It was, indeed. I closed my eyes, feeling for the oak tree that grew behind the bench. I could feel the roots spreading deep into the earth, thirstily sucking up water. If I concentrated, I could feel each tiny capillary and the water traveling up along it, towards the vibrant life of the new leaves. People walked past, and I could feel each one of them, some of them glowing in my mind's eye. With most of them, it was only a little, but a few glowed brigher.

Ray, at my side, shone like a star.

I felt a nudge, like an immaterial finger tapping at me, and opened my eyes. "Lost in space, huh? Eat your burger, or Dief's gonna steal it."

"Ah, yes." I ate my burger.

***

Ray's prayers for something interesting to happen had apparently been answered, because when we came back to the squadroom, there was a note on Ray's desk from Francesca.

He seized the note and stalked over to her desk. "What's this about?" he asked her.

Francesca stopped typing and managed to look down her nose at him, despite sitting down. "What's the matter Ray, you can't read?"

He smirked. "Thought you might have more information than what fits on this little piece of paper, but maybe I was wrong."

I sighed. Sometimes I thought they were overdoing their bickering, but Francesca assured me that this was indeed what a normal sibling relationship was like, at least at the Vecchio household. Well, as long as it kept Ray Vecchio safe.

Ray Vecchio had a remarkable talent for changing his appearance (or rather, what he actually did was to influence the mind of the observer) and had been called upon to impersonate a member of the Mafia in Las Vegas. Ray Kowalski was here to cover for him. Given Ray Vecchio's penchant for changing his appearance, it did not matter in the least that they looked nothing alike.

"All right, Ray, I'll tell you," Francesca said magnanimously. "They found a guy who'd taken an overdose of booster dust. He's at the hospital now, but he might be able to give you a clue about the drug. You know, who his supplier was."

"Finally!" Ray snapped his fingers and turned on his heel.

"What do you say, Ray?" Francesca called after him.

"Thanks, Frannie," Ray called out as he grabbed his coat again. "Come on, Fraser!"

***

The man was barely conscious, his limbs twitching in small, erratic movements. So were the objects around him: the cup of water on his bedside table had spilled out, and the curtains were fluttering, even though the window was closed.

"Watch it," said the nurse stationed outside. "He could be dangerous."

"S'okay," Ray said and showed his badge. "We can protect ourselves."

We both pulled our shields around ourselves, and I felt him batter at them. In my mind's eye, the man glowed with a feverish light. I put my hand on his forehead, and his body, too, was feverish.

"Just ten minutes, all right? He needs to rest if he's going to make it," the nurse said.

"Sure." Ray leaned in and spoke to the man. "We're from the police. We need to know where you got the drug. Can you tell us?"

"No," the man murmured. He was still wearing his own shirt, and it was a toned-down, more expensive version of the shirts Ray Vecchio used to wear. He gave the impression of having money, a lot of it. Well, of course he did, if he could afford the drug.

"You can't or you won't?"

"You don't know what it's like. To want it like that..."

"It's an addictive drug," I said. "That's why you want it. But it can kill you if you continue taking it."

The glass of water fell to the floor without a touch. But it was plastic, and bounced harmlessly. "You've got it all the time," he gasped. "You're gifted. You blame me...for wanting it, too?"

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," Ray said. "Now, you got a name? A place?"

The man's body stiffened, and he made a strangled noise. The nurse came in and slipped a needle into his shoulder. He slumped bonelessly among the sheets.

"I've given you all the time I could," she said. "He needs to sleep it off. If he's awake for too long, an overdose like this could give him brain damage."

"Right. Thanks for your help."

"Sure. We want to catch the guys selling this drug as much as you do."

"Okay, Fraser, any ideas?"

I turned to the nurse. "Do you have his personal effects? Clothes, any objects that he carried?"

She opened a closet by the wall. "Help yourselves."

I took out a pair of slacks, shoes, a jacket. Searching through the pockets yielded a wallet, a mobile phone, several pieces of paper, keys, a package of cigarettes.

Ray took out his notebook and pen. "Okay, Fraser, give it your best shot."

I began with the shoes. They had hopefully been wherever he had been, thus also intersecting with where the drug dealer had been. I took them in my hands and turned them over, concentrating. Streets, of course, buildings, but I needed more than that. I closed my eyes and touched my tongue to the underside: the taste of dust, and sudden knowledge.

"A tall building downtown, on West Jackson Boulevard. It has large glass windows and is taller than the surrounding ones. He must work there—the shoes have been there every day except for the weekend."

Ray was writing, and I continued. "A house on the Gold Coast, near the lake. There's a magnolia tree outside the building, with lovely white flowers—a Magnolia grandiflora, I believe."

"Not relevant, Fraser, go on."

"It must be his home, since the shoes leave the place every morning." I frowned in concentration and went on to list all the other places where the shoes had been during the last week. It got progressively more difficult as we got further back in time, and the images were fainter for places the shoes had only been once. I couldn't get a precise location for them all.

Nevertheless, when I had finished, Ray had a long list of places. Next, I took his keys and put the cool metal on my tongue, going through the images to see if there were any new ones.

"All right, I think you can stop sucking on those keys. I've probably got it all now." I opened my eyes to see the corner of Ray's mouth twitching up. Thankfully, he refrained from making jokes about my supposed oral fixation, which he was prone to do.

"Right, let's look at the other stuff." I went through his wallet, while Ray looked at the papers we had found in the man's pockets.

"This one's a shopping list," Ray said. "Not useful. This one...there's something written on it, but I can't make it out. The handwriting's even worse than mine. Could be a price—I think this is a dollar sign."

He handed the piece of paper to me, and I licked it. It tasted strange; a mixture of sweet and sour that reminded me of a kind of hard candy I had eaten in my youth.

"Can you get a location on it?"

An image flashed into my head, sharper than usual, as I traced the paper back until its path diverged from the man in the bed. It was a non-descript office room, with a desk, a chair and a small window with the blinds down. I gave Ray the location of the office.

"A woman had it before him. I think she's gifted. She—" I swallowed, my tongue suddenly large in my mouth. My face was hot.

"You okay?"

"I...don't know." The room was spinning, and I clutched the piece of paper.

Without even touching my tongue to it again, I suddenly knew that the paper had been made from Douglas fir growing on the Oregon coast. I saw the man who had cut it down, his sparse beard and the scar on his right hand from where he'd hurt himself when he was fifteen and first tried to use a chainsaw. I saw the truck that had taken the lumber to the pulp mill, and the chemical sludge it had been when it was turned into paper. I saw the young woman who worked in the shop where the paper had been sold. She had a multitude of black braids and had smiled automatically at the customer who had bought the paper, all the while thinking about the club where she'd go out dancing that night.

I saw all these things and more, all at once. They were more than I could handle; they filled my mind to overflowing, until I felt that it must burst.

But there was one thing that was important: the woman who had bought the paper, who had been in the office. I focused on that single thing among the others that clamored for my attention, and forced the words out. "The woman. She must be the drug dealer."

"Yeah, I get that. You gave me the adress and her description. But that's not important." Ray's voice was urgent and seemed to come from above me. Was I lying on the floor?

"Not...?"

"Fraser, you're drugged." He reached out to touch me, and I felt his power like a golden halo of light that surrounded him. I reached out hungrily towards him, that one familiar thing in the torrent which flowed through me. Ray. I wanted to feel him more clearly, to melt into him and merge with him, and wrap myself in his light. On some level I knew I shouldn't, but I didn't care.

"No!" Ray said sharply, and thrust me away.

"Ray!" I said, and reached for him, but then there were footsteps, and other hands, cool professional ones. Then a sharp prick in my arm, and darkness.

***

There was a wet tongue licking my face, and I awoke, turning my face away from the smell of Diefenbaker's breath. Not that my own mouth tasted much better. I was thirsty, and my head ached.

Clearing my throat, I tried to speak, and mostly succeeded. "Where am I?"

There were footsteps, and Ray sat down on the bed beside me. I was in his bedroom, I realized. Surreptitiously, I sniffed at the sheets, but they only smelled of clean laundry. He must have changed them before putting me to bed. Ridiculously, I felt disappointed.

"My apartment," Ray said. "The hospital kept you for observation overnight, and then they wanted someone to keep an eye on you today, so I volunteered. It's the least I could do."

"What do you mean?"

Ray stared down at his hands. "I gave you that piece of paper and asked you for a location. It's my fault the drug got into your system."

"That's nonsense, Ray. I might as well have done it on my own."

"Well, I ought to have realized what it'd been used for."

I reached out for Ray's hand, and squeezed it briefly. His hand was warm and dry, and I wanted to hold on to it, but didn't. The brief contact gave me a vague sense of Ray's state of mind. I couldn't read his thoughts, by any means, but I felt his guilt, and that he was tired and in need of sleep—not much more, I suppose, than what could have been sensed by reading his body language.

The corners of Ray's mouth curled up a little bit, and I hoped that my touch had reassured him. If I had deliberately reached out toward him with my gift, I could have sensed more of his emotions. But such a violation of someone's integrity was simply not done. And besides, it would go both ways, and I did not particularly want Ray to know how lying in his bed made me feel.

"How do you feel? You need anything?"

"I'm a little thirsty."

Ray fetched water for me, and I drank it.

"You got a headache?"

"Yes, actually."

"And you weren't going to tell me, right?" Ray frowned at me. "Anyway, the doctor said you might have, so she sent these along. Said you weren't supposed to take ordinary aspirins."

I took one of the pills Ray offered. I'd known a man once whose gift could smooth away a headache with a touch, but such abilities were rare. The human body was a complicated thing.

"Anything else?"

"No, I'll be all right. Thank you kindly." Dief jumped up on the bed and curled up against me. He looked at me and whuffed.

"I'll thank you to keep your skepticism to yourself." But I stroked the thick fur of his neck in afffection. Humans weren't the only animals to have special gifts—I was glad to have Dief as my companion. Not all wolves could read lips and talk back at you, although I had to admit that I was sometimes mighty tired of Dief talking back.

"The doctor said you should be fine tomorrow." Ray glanced at me and then away. "How did it feel?"

"Overwhelming. It was as if I was drowning in sensation and could feel every bit of information at once." The drug strengthened and amplified a person's natural gift, so that those who had very weak gifts could be strong during a day—for a price, both physical and monetary. But with those strongly gifted, the effect was too strong for a human mind and body to bear, if it wasn't very carefully dosed.

"Perhaps we should be grateful that you weren't the one who was drugged. You could have brought the building down."

Ray smiled briefly at the thought. "Yeah, maybe."

Ray's gift lay in the manipulation of objects around him. He could lift things, if they were not too heavy, and more usefully, he could open locks and stop bullets, which had saved us both many times. But things on a smaller scale often defeated him—I had known computers to crash when Ray was careless, which was why he always used a typewriter.

"If you're fine tomorrow, we could go after the drug dealer," Ray said. "I think we've got enough information."

"Yes, that seems like a good idea."

"But only if you're fine." Ray's frown was fierce.

"Of course, Ray."

***

"You get anything?" I whispered to Ray. We were staking out the slightly run-down office building where the drug had been sold. We didn't want to alert the dealer to our presence, and so we were waiting until we were absolutely certain she was there, or as certain we could be.

Ray pressed a button on the little square instrument in his hand and moved it around. "Five point three richets, and getting stronger towards the building. Yeah, there's definitely someone using a gift in there."

"Are you sure you've compensated for our own fields?"

"Yeah, I did that."

We were both trying to contain our gifts as much as possible—I thought of it like a snail retracting its eyes into its body. Still, there was always a certain amount of leakage, and we were much closer to the instrument. But despite the approximate results, this was a much safer way of detecting the use of a gift than reaching out with our own power, which could easily have revealed us to the other person.

"Do you want to go in?"

"Yeah. Should we call for backup?"

"Yes, I think so." But while Ray was making the call, I noticed the blinking on the instrument in Ray's hand. "Ray, I think she's getting closer."

A door opened some twenty meters from us, and a woman stepped out. She was wearing a long dark coat, and walked purposefully away from us. Ray put the radio down and glanced at me, raising his eyebrows. I nodded. We wouldn't get a better chance.

We both got out of the GTO and ran after her. I felt Ray shielding himself, and I did, as well. We didn't know what she'd be capable of.

Ray drew his gun. "Chicago PD! Hands up, and drop your power!"

She spun around. Her hair was spiky and bleached almost white, and she looked like a cornered cat. But as her power extended toward us, I revised that assessment—not a cat, more like a mountain lion.

"What do you want?" she said.

"You're under suspicion of dealing in forbidden substances," I replied. "Please come with us quietly."

"Yeah, right," she said, and clenched her fists.

I felt the sudden pressure against my shield, and gasped. Beside me, Ray staggered back a step. She was strong, much stronger than either Ray or I. It would only be a matter of time before she overpowered us.

"Fraser," Ray said. I didn't turn my head to look at him. My mind felt slow and dazed. Then I felt Ray grip my hand. "Got to link, or we're not going to make it."

Instinctively, I wanted to say no. The custom of keeping one's power fenced off from other people's was so strong it was almost a taboo, and I had never linked that way with anyone. But Ray was right.

"All right," I managed to say against the numbing pressure.

Ray stepped close to my side, and our two shields merged into one. I had thought it would be difficult, but it wasn't. It was easy, like something I had long resisted.

"Works better if we're skin to skin," Ray said, and tugged my shirt from my jeans. He slid his arms around me, the warm bare skin of his arms against my back and chest, and his fingers splayed against me for maximum contact. At another time, such an act would have seemed an impossible breach of the rules of our partnership. Now, I only felt the flare of our joint power.

"Can't do it alone?" the woman said. The corner of her mouth lifted in a sardonic smile, and she tested our shield with a vicious jab. It held.

But I didn't think we could overpower her, even together.

"Hey, I got an idea," Ray whispered. His lips were so close that they brushed my ear with every word. I shuddered all over and my skin rose up in goosebumps, despite the situation we were in. Ray must have felt it, but he only held me tighter. "Can you distract her? Make her go on the offensive?"

I didn't ask him any questions. Instead, I let the shield waver and slowly shrink inwards, as if our strength was giving out.

Our opponent smiled triumphantly and took a step forwards. "Maybe this will teach you cops not to meddle. Don't worry, I won't hurt you too much. Just a sound sleep and some memory loss."

"Your drug is illegal, and it's hurting people."

"Really? Do you begrudge people the chance to be gifted? It's their own choice to take it—I'm not making them." The pressure increased against our shield.

Before I could reply, there was a gunshot, and the woman crumpled, doubled over with pain, and her power wavered and failed. Ray's gun. I'd forgotten about it, and there was no guarantee that she couldn't have blocked the bullets anyway. But we had caught her off guard—in a power struggle such as the one we had been locked in, one often forgets how efficient merely physical weapons could be.

Ray rushed forward and punched her in the head, and she lay still. The shot had been to her leg, and I bundled up her coat and pressed it against the wound. I heard sirens as our backup arrived.

"Hope I didn't punch her too hard," Ray said, shaking his hand. "But I had to knock her out, or she'd have gotten to us."

I felt for her pulse. It was steady, and her pupils were normal. "I think she'll be all right."

Ray called for an ambulance as the other officers came on the scene and went into the building to investigate the drug dealer's office. My knees were suddenly shaky, and I sat down on the ground. Ray turned and came straight for me, although I hadn't said anything. I could feel his concern through the link.

He touched my neck, and I felt a warm surge of power along my spine. It aroused me. I stared down at the still welling blood on the woman's leg, and felt disgusted at myself. Fighting it down, I pulled away from Ray. He said nothing, only turned away to supervise the other officers. I was grateful for the privacy, if it could be called that.

The ambulance arrived and took care of our wounded suspect. I asked one of the other officers to drive Ray and me home, since neither of us was fit to drive.

"You all right?" the driver asked me as he let me out at the Consulate.

"Yes," I said.

I had not been wounded, after all—if I was a trifle shaky, I was sure it would pass with a good night's sleep. I shared a glance with Ray. I could still feel him in the back of my mind, but I could hardly bring that up in the presence of the driver.

I let myself into the Consulate. It was late, and Dief was still out in pursuit of a bitch, which he had preferred to coming along on our stakeout. I took a shower, hot and then cold. But it could not wash away the slow hum of power along my nerves, Ray's and mine both. I had no idea of how to break this bond between us.

Well, perhaps I could sleep it off. I changed into my long johns and lay down on my cot. But although I was very tired, sleep didn't come to me. With no other distractions, I could feel the play of power over my skin, raising goosebumps. Without thinking, I reached out to Ray, and he was there in my head, and the feeling was as real as if he had been lying next to me. At the thought, arousal rushed through me.

I stiffened. There was no way I could hide it from Ray. I knew myself exposed, naked in body and mind, and could only wait for Ray's reaction.

It came in an answering rush of desire, and I shuddered out a breath.

"Ray?" I said out loud, and the reply came not in words, but in a feeling of assent, even encouragement. I groaned and took myself in hand. Light caresses, as of the brush of fingers, ran over my skin. Then they centered over my nipples, tugging at them, and the sensation made me lose my breath.

I felt the movements of Ray's hand on his own body echoing mine, felt his mounting excitement. The sensation flowed between us, caught in the closed loop of our link. The touch of Ray's power slid down over the skin of my belly to cradle my testicles, and I made an inarticulate sound and climaxed. The pleasure overwhelmed me, and I felt Ray pulled along with me to his own orgasm. Our bodies echoed each other in pulse after pulse, until I lay panting and wrung out on the cot.

I matched my breathing to Ray's, and lay there in the dark. I was alone, but at the same time, I was as intertwined with another person as I have ever been, mind and body.

We both slid down into sleep together.

***

I woke at my usual time, but Ray slept on. His calm heartbeat made me move more softly through my morning, putting my teacup down carefully on the saucer so that it would not clink.

I felt him wake, dragging himself from sleep, and then the bitter taste of coffee in Ray's mouth. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with it, and I panicked, sitting there on my chair with Ray in my head, in my body, everywhere, and I couldn't shut him out.

I couldn't be alone in my head.

I felt Ray responding to my panic, and we struggled, but the bond entangled us like rabbits in a snare. My heart raced. Then I felt Dief tugging hard at the sleeve of my arm. His teeth dug lightly but firmly into my forearm.

"Thank you, Dief." I leaned my head down on the table and concentrated on my breathing. Mine, not Ray's. In, out. In, out.

When I had calmed myself sufficiently, I set off for the 2-7. Ray and I had agreed to meet there early to question the suspect, if she was sufficiently recovered.

Outside the station, I stopped outside the door. Ray was in the building; I could feel it. Perhaps it was silly, since we could already feel each other's emotions through the link, but I was afraid to face him after what we had done last night.

There was a popular conception that people who were gifted could share all their thoughts and reach a perfect understanding, but this was not so, even through a link such as the one that bound Ray and me. There was just as much space for misunderstanding—one might feel an emotion, but mistake its significance or cause.

Well, Ray could certainly feel my hesitance now. I pushed the door open, and Diefenbaker and I went through it.

Ray sat at his desk, a cup of coffee on the desk before him. He looked right at me when I came into the bullpen, and it was not a coincidence. I stopped, and felt myself blush. It was echoed on Ray's cheeks.

"Right, uh," Ray said. "You want to take a look at the suspect?"

"Ah, yes." It was not as if we could talk about what had happened in front of anyone else.

We went to the neutralized interview room, and Ray checked that the switch was flipped to "on". The humming of the electrical generator that drove it filled the air.

"I wish these things were portable," Ray said.

"That would be useful, yes."

As soon as we stepped through the door, my senses were deadened, or so it felt. This was how the non-gifted felt all the time, I reminded myself. But then again, they were used to it.

More importantly, the link to Ray was cut off, and I let out a breath in relief. And yet, there was a sense of loss as well.

Our suspect, whose name turned out to be Miranda Arby, was sitting at a table with her lawyer, a sharp-eyed woman in a suit. There was a bump on Miranda's head and a bandage on her leg, but she seemed alert enough.

"You ready to confess?" Ray said.

The lawyer moved as if to prevent her from saying anything, but Miranda didn't seem about to blurt anything out. She kept her mouth shut like a clam, until Ray offered her a deal—a significantly reduced sentence in return for all the information she had about her suppliers. Then she glanced at the lawyer, who nodded imperceptibly.

"I might be interested in that. If, hypothetically, I knew anything," Miranda said.

"Your drugs aren't hypothetical," Ray said. "Fraser here traced the drug to you, so we know you handled it."

"But wouldn't you rather catch the higher-ups than the small fish?" she said, and smirked at us.

***

"She drives a hard bargain," Ray said and shook his head as we went out from the interview room.

"Yes, she—" I began, but then the world rushed back into me, and the bond between us snapped into place again. I took hold of Ray's arm to steady myself.

"Vecchio! Fraser!" Welsh bellowed across the room. "My office, now!"

"Coming!" Ray replied.

We shut the office door behind us. "How are you doing?" Welsh asked.

"Uh, fine," Ray said.

"Detective, you're in an office full of the gifted. You think you can hide what happened with you two?" Welsh folded his arms wearily.

I felt my cheeks heating in a flush.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, Constable. Could've happened to anyone. But I'm sending you two to get some counseling from someone who knows how to handle it. Trust me, you don't want to stay bonded like that."

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Call this number and get an appointment," Welsh said, and handed me a piece of paper. "Now get out of here."

We did.

Back in the bullpen, Ray headed towards the bathroom. He didn't need to speak for me to know that he wanted me to follow him. Luckily, it was empty, and Ray pulled me into one of the stalls for some privacy.

He ran his fingers through his hair, and I felt his nervousness. I myself felt only cowardly relief that I wouldn't have to be the one to bring it up.

"Uh, do you regret it? I mean, was it just the link?"

"No. No, Ray, it wasn't just the link. I have...well, for a long time."

He looked up, eyes bright. "Really?"

The bathroom door opened, and I quickly sat down on the lid of the toilet, trying for invisible as the visitor (Huey—I recognized him by the shoes) did his business. Ray's eyes gleamed with amusement.

Huey left, and I stood up.

"Yes, Ray, really." Then I leaned in and kissed him, and power surged and danced in our blood.

"Uh, I'm pretty sure the entire station could feel that," Ray said as we finally pulled apart.

"Right now, I'm not sure I care."

"Yeah, me neither. C'mon, let's go face the music." Ray grinned.


End file.
